With You
by bettercrazythanboring
Summary: A series of seven prompts relating to Wally and Artemis' life together as part of the DC Marriage Week on Tumblr.
1. Proposal

"Stop making that face," Artemis orders, crossing her arms. "It's not like I took away your pancakes!"

"No, you just have to challenge _everyone_!" Wally narrows his eyes. "Doesn't it ever get exhausting?"

"Not as exhausting as _you_ are."

She's leaning on one hip, making a perfect curve down one side, and her lips turn to stone between sentences. Her chest stays perfectly still, as it always does during fights, and the vast, dark emptiness surrounding the Watchower only emphasizes how light her hair is.

Its beauty practically shines right into his eyes and he's momentarily awestruck.

And then he remembers he's actually mad at her.

"Oh my _god_, woman," Wally starts, clenching his fists, and he means 'woman' in the best possible way, because, man, what a one she is. 'You are _literally_ impossible."

She casts her eyes to the ceiling, noticing a few team members starting to pay attention. "This coming from the guy who stopped existing for three whole months."

"Yeah, well, at least _I'd_ close my eyes if you asked me to."

"Wallace, we've been over this. It's not about me trusting you; it's about me needing my _eyes_."

He grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs. Sharply. "Ugh, can't you just let me guide you in the dark like a normal person?"

"No! I don't know where you are taking me! What if I need my bow?" she counters. "I'm not the girl on Angel who blinded herself to be a better warrior; _I need my vision!_"

"Do you _really_ think I'd do that?" he asks with a groan.

"Hmm. Let me recall. Did I really think you'd go after Lex Luthor without backup?" Artemis asks. "No? Well, apparently, _I can be wrong!_"

Oh, again with that.

"Well, now I'm _telling_ you that it's not a danger zone! Can you trust me _now_?"

"Maybe, if you'd _started_ with that," she mutters. "It's not the first time one of us would be possessed; come on, what did you expect me to think?"

He sighs in exasperation. "Maybe something stupid; _I dunno!_ You are well aware of the moronic things that come out of this mouth!"

"Uhhh… Artemis?" M'gann says from the side, grimacing. "Wally's… not being brainwashed. You should go with him," she finishes quietly, peeking up at her best friend.

"_Thank_ you," he says, gesturing to the Martian with a roll of his eyes. Really, he thought this would be the _easiest_ part of the night.

The blonde purses her lips, nods curtly to the mindreader, and turns back to her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. "Then why are we in uniform?"

"What, _still_?"

Wally's mouth actually hangs open this time. Is she just _looking_ for excuses?

"Ugh, because we need to use the Zeta tubes!" He punches the air and whips around, mouth twitching when he looks back at her.

Her stare pierces the air between them and his lights the resulting void on fire.

Their lips curl, eyes refuse to blink, hands vibrate in anticipation of whatever's to come.

Finally, the nerves and excitement and her freaking face become too much for him and he hooks his fingers into the opening in the fabric on his neck, prying it loose.

"Okay, _fine_! You want no uniforms? _No_ uniforms! Oh, just _watch_ this," he mutters, scowling at her.

Wally strips down right in the middle of the glossy floor—in front of who knows how many security cameras—where numerous superheroes have abandoned any and all pretenses of a briefing and are now watching them with unabashed curiosity.

He yanks his red Flash costume off with enough force that she's surprised it doesn't tear. What's he…? Oh, of all the nerve…!

Well, can't let him make a statement alone. She was the one who objected to the suits, after all.

When she spots a glimpse of his heart-stamped underwear under the costume, she takes it as an okay to follow his lead, angrily unzipping her belt and letting it drop with a clank.

No _way_ is she gonna let him win at this.

Her green mask and underwear stay—and so do his—but everything else is thrown into a pile on the floor, even her boots. The colorful pile of kevlar and spandex mocks them from below and she shifts her weight from foot to foot, finding with great surprise that the glassy floor is cold. Like, _really_ cold.

"Now," he says, mouth in a thin line between words, "I am freezing and a _little_ bit horny, and you had better damn be happy right now because all of this is for you, and will you _please_ just put on a blindfold, you insufferable—" The appropriate word eludes him for a moment. "—babe?"

"Oh, fine!"

She stomps over to the zeta tube, grabbing his hand on the way, and all the heat magically returns to both of them. She drags him along until they halt to a stop inside the giant construction and puts his palms on his eyes from behind.

"That's what you wanted, right?" she asks, making an effort to loosen her shoulders. Her own hands fly to her ears and she mutters something under her breath.

It sounds suspiciously like, "I am not losing track of you again."

He calibrates the zeta tube to his specifications, disabling the computer voice for fear that she might hear, and exchanges a look with M'gann

Wally gives her a grin that shows all his teeth, is a little bit crooked, lifts his eyebrows—and with them, his heart. The redhead's pulse steadies against his girlfriend's smooth back and he takes a deep breath. Whatever happens tonight, happens. Can't go back now.

The zeta tube powers up, its golden glow enveloping them in a slightly electric, warm fog, and the next moment they're in an old, wooden building that looks to be haunted. Or possibly on the verge of collapsing.

"Keep your eyes closed," he whispers into her ear, still in his underwear. He gently takes her hands and places them upon her eyes, leaning into her so that she doesn't glimpse anything during the change.

Then he swoops her up—as he has hundreds of times before—and zips through the dark, damp, narrow, and empty streets of Paris.

"I can hear an accordion," she says, keeping her eyes closed even under her fingers, but debating whether to peek or not.

"Well, I can't sew your ears shut, can I?" He grins down at her, glad she can't see it.

Her forehead puckers. "If you ever try, I will _obliterate_ you."

"I'm too wise for that, babe," he says, pressing a light kiss to her lips and nearly stumbling over something in the process.

"Dude, you're carrying me. Some respect, please?" she asks after the jolt.

"Sorry. We're almost there. Just gotta… avoid the… population. Superheroes in tights is one thing," he says. "But superheroes in underwear?"

"It's gonna be a thing," she announces with perfect confidence.

"Oh, yes, it's so much easier to fight with literally no weapons or protection. We should make your dad wear only underwear; even the playing field a little."

"Trust me," Artemis warns, nearly breaking her promise in order to give him a look that so badly needs giving, "that is not a pretty sight. At _all_."

"Yikes." He feels a chill run down his spine. "Okay, noted."

"Are we there yet?" she asks, practically bouncing in his arms.

"Uh… just about."

He runs his tongue over his teeth as his destination approaches, a trail of leaves falling behind him. Where did he put Zatanna's cloaking spell again? It was right in the back pocket of his—

Of his suit. Oh, terrific.

He frowns, looking at the curious girl in his arms, and the way she peeks up at him for a split second does it; they just have to make do. He can't afford to delay it any longer.

Wally runs a circle around the asphalt, slowing with every step until he can set her down without fear of harming her. She keeps her eyes closed as he had asked and, in this moment, he's so glad he had the forethought to put that something special into his boxers instead of his suit, unlike Zee's charm.

He turns her into the proper direction, extremely aware of the few people in the vicinity who watch the two colorfully masked, half-naked youngsters with curiosity at four in the morning.

All she sees is darkness, but it's also light. Flickers of yellow, dancing shapes have flown behind her lids as she listened to him talk, heard him breathe, focused on the amazing strength of the arms holding her. Now they're starting to dull as he's being almost alarmingly quiet, but his hands are on her and that's really all that matters.

Then she hears him take a deep breath and her hands are lifted and all she sees is light. With a hint of darkness.

Thousands of lights illuminating the piercing black of the night sky shine around them. Every last piece of metal crinkles with color above her, every complicated maze of construction makes perfect sense in this moment.

The light changes colors, just like that, and something crawls up her throat, and she's not entirely sure she can feel her pulse anymore. Her arms wrap around her to instinctively shield her from the brightness, even as her eyes refuse to blink for fear of missing beauty.

Somewhere in the distance, water rushes up in the air in tiny, tiny drops and falls back down, reflecting every bit of the color that Artemis is gazing at, but she pays it no mind. Right just then, she's sure she's at the center of the universe.

It's a while later that her thoughts start working again. Ah, that's right; she's an actual person and not a beingless entity created solely for the purpose of admiring light, of all things. For a moment, she could've sworn… Oh, well.

Which muscles do you use for lowering your head, again? 'Cause all she can do is crane her neck up at the metal sky, marveling. But then she hears his breath, the sound she will never ever mistake for anything else, and she finally remembers what to do with her muscles, turning back to search for her lover with his name on her lips.

It dies when she spots him behind her on one knee, holding up a ring that reflects the colors even better than the fountains, still wearing his heart boxers.

Her breath catches and her eyes stay even more frozen than when gazing up at the Eiffel Tower and, boy, she really never thought she'd be one of those girls who's absolutely speechless at this moment, but no witty quip lands on her tongue.

Just the promise of the kind of love that she's never been able to show anyone else. She keeps it to herself, safe and warm as it rolls back into her.

"Look, hear me out babe," he says, giving her a glimpse of a grin that lasts no longer than a blink. "This is where I realized for the first time that, if given the chance, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. This is where I had one of the happiest moments of my life and I know you did, too. This is… This our spot, y'know? I know we've talked about coming back here, but I'm just tired of waiting for 'someday' and 'when we have the energy to plan'.

"I want to give you Paris and I want to give you stability," he says, words quickening, "and, and, and a _lot_ of other things that I didn't practice enough and have now forgotten. But I promise I won't forget in the future and, and also I love you and we're gonna have our tenth anniversary soon and I personally think that it's been enough time to know that I just wanna be with you always.

"I know I said that once before and then I left," he pours the words out, flinching, "and no words will ever let you know how freaking sorry I am for that, but I want you to know, from the bottom of the abyss of my heart—or, uh, something less gloomy—that this time not even decapitation can stop me, okay? By which I mean, uh… Fuck. Look, I'm in this for the long haul. In cuddling and in passion, in arguments and in snide comments, in combat and in kitchen, I am _with you_." His looks straight into her eyes, trying to convey how much he means the words. "As long as you'll have me."

His hands shake as they hold up the small box and he belatedly remembers to breathe, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

"And I could've said that all in much fewer words, I know, but, hey, it's me and you knew what you were getting into, and this is _kinda_ when you're supposed to shut me up and say y— Oh my god, you're not breathing." His eyes widen. "Are you breathing? Holy shit, Artemis, are you okay?" He jumps up, letting the ring fall to the rough asphalt, and takes her face into his hands, searching for some sign of distress.

"I'm fine," she manages, watching as his face relaxes and still drawing a blank in her mind. "That's just… not what I expected."

But, in a way, it is.

"Yeah, I'm sure those two Italians didn't either." He nods over to the small gathering of tourists watching them. Wally casts his eyes down, fingers making little patterns on her skin. "Was it a… _good_ unexpected thing?"

She looks up into his eyes, biting her lip, and, of course, this is when the words return. "Y'know, it would be… But you never asked me what I think you meant to ask," she points out with a smirk.

He freezes instantly, searching his brain for any single words or phrases in the entire English language that his rant may have left out, but she lays a hand on his cheek, melting him as she so often does.

"Wallace Rudolph West," she says slowly, a wicked glint in her eyes as she snakes her arms around his neck, "will you marry me?"

It takes him a moment to process the meaning behind the words and then he swallows, his hands gliding down her shoulders to rest on her waist. He could really use a cough right about now to clear that mass of butterflies stuck in his throat, but he's not about to let her maintain the upper hand for too long.

He purses his lips and looks up at the Eiffel Tower above them, pretending to be considering it. "If I say yes, do I get to wear the ring?"

"No," she says immediately. "Mine."

He tries his hardest to keep from grinning. "Hmm, I'll have to think about it, then. See, it _is_ a very nice ring."

"I'll buy you a nicer one," she promises, face pressing closer to his until their lips are barely quarter of an inch apart and his breath tickles her skin. "It'll be perfectly round and golden 'cause you're a winner," she says against his mouth, feeling his heat on her nose as her eyes travel down to look at his soft lips.

The air starts to hum somehow and his skin prickles in the best way.

"And instead of a diamond you'll have a lightning bolt," she continues, "and you will never _ever_ forget that you have a reason to rush home as fast as you can."

She finally raises her eyelids and looks right into him, flushed and bare in more than just the lack of clothes.

"Well, how can I refuse that," he whispers against her lips, entranced by her gaze. "Yes. A _million_ times yes."

"Good," she whispers back and takes his mouth with her own, marking it as forever hers.

* * *

**A/N**: These will be rolled out over the week and will probably all be rush jobs but whatever. Also I will hopefully participating in this event twice, once with Spitfire and once with a different pairing every day, so you should keep an eye out for that. And no, this is not my giant AU thing, this is just a thing that was needed. The giant AU thing is coming.


	2. Bachelor(ette) Party

"All right, ladies," Artemis says, holding her helmet against her hip. "Our objective is clear. No patrolling, no stopping until we reach the destination, and I will shoot at you if you step on the brake at any point."

Her full, blood red lips curve into a mischievous grin as her smoky eyes run over the nine women clad in leather, standing in a semi-circle before her.

"We drive in a straight line, we make the world _screech_ behind us, we turn the heads of everyone we pass," she instructs. "At one point, there _will_ be something sledding-like involved, so calibrate your motorcycles accordingly. Iris, Mary, and my mom will join us there."

Artemis whips her ponytail behind her and zips up her green jacket, tucking her phone into a pocket on her calf. She puts on the fingerless gloves with a satisfied grunt as she fastens them, letting her perfectly manicured black nails with golden lighting bolts have their glory.

"We take no prisoners tonight." She smirks, one eyebrow curving. "But if anyone's too chicken, get out now."

"Uh huh; this inspirational speech montage in the making is nice and everything," Zatanna says, "but I wanna feel some power between my legs. And not the kind I have to get off," she mutters to Raquel beside her, who presses a palm to her mouth.

"Hey," Artemis says, pointing her helmet right at her friend. "My party. I talk however long I want."

The magician's hands fly up. "Yes, your highness."

"Ha. Ha. But it just _happens_ that I was out of things to say anyway," the blonde allows, rolling her eyes.

"Then let's ride!" Zatanna hops onto her motorcycle, revving the engine impatiently. "_Ooh_, yeah, that's the stuff."

"Everyone, let's raise our imaginary glasses to Batman for letting us borrow these!" Barbara urges, flipping a leg over hers. It's a new model, a glider equipped with the latest tech and adaption modes. It's _beautiful_. "And, please, for the love of Wonder Woman, _do not crash it_ or, so help me, I will bribe Karen to fly up your nose."

"Hey!" the scientist in question protests.

But, deep down, she knows has a price. They all do. And this baby just might be hers.

Rubbing her hands together, Karen examines all the features and parts of her motorcycle, yelping when Cassie breezes past them all on the street, not quite used to the gear shifts.

"Yeah, don't do that," Artemis says, biting her lip at the youngest girl among them who soon doubles back. "Whaddaya say, girls? Let's go have us some _fun_."

She sticks her helmet onto her head, flexes her thighs to feel the ridged seat between them, and cracks her knuckles in preparation for what will hopefully be a wild night.

The mob of women take off one by one and it takes them all a few minutes to get used to the tech and find their own speed, but then they blast through the streets of Gotham and onto the highway.

Each motorcycle is a different color and, though none of them wear anything but practical clothes—covered up hair to toe—there's not many people who can resist a double take at the ten unmistakable women driving way over the speed the limit and many of them taking hands off the wheel regularly.

They leave a rain of dust in their wake at the city's border, old paper bags flying in every direction.

Conversations via the mental link range from unremarkable to raunchy to classified. All the rite of passage jokes about the perils of marriage are exchanged, Wally is made fun of, and those few who are already married give their own advice.

At one point, when they're driving on a relatively abandoned stretch of road, Artemis asks Zatanna to put a protection spell on her and M'gann to keep an eye on her, and takes off her helmet as well as the leather jacket.

She's left with a snug, stiff fabric underneath that ends right under her belly button and accentuates her breasts perfectly with its low sweetheart neckline, leaving her arms completely bare. After instructing the motorcycle to go on autopilot, Artemis balances the items on her seat and, resting her palms lightly against it, draws her legs up and straightens, standing up in the wind.

She leans down to press play—on one of her favorite tunes that make her feel like a badass—and starts dancing to it, right there on the moving vehicle. Her feet stay glued to the seat, but her hips wiggle and her arms stretch out in either direction, and she lets her hair out to blow in the wind, and it feels better than the Titanic _ever_ looked.

It doesn't matter that it's below freezing out and that she's going at speeds where the wind should claw her bare, bronzed skin off, or that she recently lost her job (as if she can be expected to ignore the League's calls in the middle of meetings), or that she still has a giant bruise on her thigh from last month.

She's _free_.

After watching her sister for barely a minute, Jade follows suit and jumps up on her motorcycle, giving a middle finger to the world. Two of them, in fact.

Barbara is the next to relinquish control, anchoring her hands on the seat and lifting her legs up into the air as the wind executes chaos around her hair. A few women gasp in her mind at the sight of her balancing herself on one measly hand at eighty miles per hour, but she pays them no mind; she knows what she's capable of.

The redhead stays like that for a full two minutes before jumping upright and joining in the dance party that already features Raquel and Asami.

Even Dinah looks ready to stop being careful and let loose.

M'gann is the only one who genuinely doesn't get the appeal—she can replicate the feeling of wind and motion any time she wishes—and it makes everyone feel less guilty about using her as a lookout for anything that could go wrong on their quest for adrenaline.

It's doesn't take long for the entire nine other women to be standing on their motorcycles, dancing to a popular club song that Artemis has turned up to a volume that should be heard for a quarter of a mile around them.

They get weird looks from the drivers of the opposite lane—is there a circus in town that they don't know about? a stunt practice?—but none of them give a damn… or, really, even notice it.

When they've gotten some air into their system, the women all jump back down to their seats at once, making the current eavesdropping driver gape for five minutes at this sight as she rides back to Gotham.

(They are responsible for when the unknown person decides to get into shape—this time, for real—and ends up the star athlete in her circle of women who've picked up gymnastics in their late thirties. Which happens years after this moment.)

They ride on the highway for a moment longer, but then, when it turns, keep driving straight into the desert-like terrain, leaving a storm of sand behind them. They reach the promised mountains, racing each other down the white hills and keeping their eyes on approaching trees.

It's quite the extreme shortcut to the small town they're going to, but it's worth it.

They make a few circles around the town upon reaching it—to drive a little longer and also to check out the perimeter; Raquel's bridal shower, while badass, isn't exactly something anyone wants to repeat—and then park in front of a nondescript diner.

Artemis guides them to an old concrete building, going around to the back where all it takes is a push of the heavy door and they're in a dark, colorful, _loud_ paradise.

She greets the women already waiting—her existing family and her _future_ family—as she rids her body of the hot, sweaty jacket. Her skin is flushed and her heart is fluttering and her hips move to the beat without her ordering so, and she's not about to let this feeling pass.

She takes whoever's closest to her to the dancefloor, inhaling the thick air that makes her more alert and energetic, and ends up in a dark corner where the discoball rarely shines with Jade and M'gann.

Men brush by them in every direction, occasionally stopping for a number, but they lightly swat them all away. Zatanna comes over with a few martinis in her hand and Artemis downs hers in one big gulp, setting it on a nearby table immediately after.

She feels alive and one with the world and finds, with little surprise, that she feels something similar every day when she's with Wally. The realization makes her unapologetic about using a few men as dance partners when she just needs to have someone opposite her, never touching.

Hours pass by and she never feels the exertion in her legs, but her chest glistens with sweat and she downs whole water bottles at a time, and her lipstick is smeared, hair sticking up in tufts, and her vision is starting to blur in the dark room, and she could not care less about _any of it_.

Once, a guy she's used as a partner starts hitting on her and she doesn't see the harm in a little back and forth—the kind she wishes Wally was here for.

Oh, Wally. Sigh.

"You're so full of life and energy," he says as they dance. "Plus, you know your motorcycles; I saw them outside. _Nice._ I can tell you're not like other girls." He gives her a charming grin.

She actually pauses dancing for a second. "Uh… What the fuck's wrong with other girls, buddy?"

Strutting away from his speechless figure, Artemis makes her way to the bar to ask for another water, panting, and watches her party of women engage in an animated—and from the looks of it, chaotic—conversation in their corner, and she smiles.

The bride joins in and spends a great few more hours talking in the company of people she adores, letting the steam wind down a little and then, when she makes her way home via M'gann's bioship—they're all way too tired for the motorcycles—jumps Wally first thing when she walks through the door.

Going out and letting her body do its thing is nice and all—and she ain't gonna stop anytime soon—but this is even better, she thinks as his mouth gets stuck right above the sweetheart neckline of her top.

* * *

"Hand me the popcorn," Dick orders from the other side of the couch in the house the engaged couple are renting until they can buy it.

"Get your own," Wally says, shushing him as the salty bits fly into his mouth, one by one.

Bart is sitting nearby with his own bowl and so are Barry and Oliver. Conner stands to the side, talking with Roy, Kaldur, and Rudy, who don't seem to be particularly interested in the movie.

For his bachelor party, the speedster decided he wants to watch the worst action movies of all time and poke plot holes in them while taking a drink every time any character says something cliched. Because strip clubs are overrated or something.

Ten minutes in and Bart's already halfway drunk.

The underage bastard.

"I'm legal to drink where I'm from _and_ most countries in Europe," he reminds Barry and Wally every time they object.

"And you are in America now," Barry reminds him every time.

Then Bart says something like, "And American teenagers never drink. _Sure_." or, "If some adult who's been drinking with family since the age of ten went to a country where the limit was fifty, would you really deny him that?", or, "The Garricks let me.", and the subject gets dropped until the next time he whips out a bottle, which thankfully isn't often, at least.

Halfway through, the other men stop whatever they were doing to examine the source of shouting, laughter, and so much popcorn on the ground. A little intrigued by the giggling boys' actions, they finally join in the activity and, before long, all men present are tipsy, yelling over each other about the stupidity of everything on the screen.

Soon the movie stops and they decide to play poker which, given that none of them know how to play or currently possess the sharp wits to outsmart each other, turns out to be interesting. They end up making their own rules and changing them halfway through a turn as it suits their whims, and, when they run out of peanuts to bet, someone has the brilliant idea to play for clothes.

It would be a great story to tell their children someday… if they could actually remember any of it the next day.

Somewhere in the middle of the game, they fall asleep on the floor in various stages of undress.

Wally falls unconscious right in his chair and, when the doorbell wakes him up several hours later, he finds that the buzz has already passed.

Stupid metabolism.

Then again, no hangover. And since Artemis stands at his door looking impossibly sexy—seriously, is he still dreaming? 'cause he's never seen anyone, _including_ her, look that hot in all his life—he figures he likes this better as they make their way upstairs, bumping into everything in sight. (Well, out of it, really.)

Yeah, this is definitely better.


	3. Gay Marriage

"Hello, miss," the redhead says, holding out a hand to her.

She raises her eyes to his gallant form, in a tight tux and smoothed hair and that barely visible stubble she likes so much, and she takes the hand without a word.

Who needs words when they've got smiles?

Wally leads Artemis to the dancefloor slowly and spins her around on the spot until she lands in his arms, hands on his shoulders. They lean into each other and start swaying to the music with the other couples around them, enjoying the mellow atmoshpere now that most kids have crawled onto chairs and fallen asleep.

It's really quite nice.

The hall is light and unassuming, but very appealing and the music seems suited to their every need, and this moment is fairly close to pure bliss.

And then he starts crying.

After gasping at his sudden sobs, she lowers one arm and puts it around his back, rubbing circles on his spine and letting him fall against her.

"You okay?" she asks, glancing at his ear.

"Yeah," he says through a sniff and wraps his hands closer around her waist.

But then one of them sneaks up to wipe his eyes.

"It's just…" He sighs. "Yesterday he was this dumb thirteen-year-old kid from the future who kept saying 'spoiler' all the time and now he's almost thirty, and he's married, and I feel really _old_," he grumbles.

She pats his head, trying to deny to herself that she's not feeling similarly. "If I recall, you said the same thing last year on the first day of school. Almost word for word."

"No," he says instantly, straightening. "No. Our daughter will never get married. Ever. I will never be _that_ old."

She stops them in place. "Do _not_ joke about that," she orders, pointing a finger. "You will grow to a hundred and sixteen, you got that, Wall-man?"

"Right. Sorry." He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

They resume slowly shuffling their feet—it's still pleasant and all their energy has been exhausted by chasing kids all day—and then Artemis' gaze lands on the happy couple.

"Oh gosh. Look at that," she mutters with a slow smile. "Wally. Look over there." She nods forward.

Bart and Jaime are swing dancing off on the side, moving their limbs together like one single, loose entity that rolls and twists around in the universe, never stilling.

Jaime spins Bart around, doing what looks like a full six turns from one side of his stretched out arms to the other and, wow, looking at the faces of their guests, Artemis guesses no one knew they could dance like that.

Then Bart takes his new husband by both hands and lifts him up, where the Hispanic man executes a kick toward his little sister Milagro before dropping back to the ground and continuing to wiggle his hips in tandem with the speedster.

It goes on for what feels like a really fun forever and then they both halt mid-motion simultaneously—faces frozen and everything—and bow to the guests.

And now Bart has to excuse himself to search for food. Dancing is pretty much the most intense workout ever, as far as he's concerned.

"Man, you should've busted out those moves for the first dance," Wally says at the buffet.

"Nah; it's easy to mess up," Bart replies, winking at Artemis. "First dance has got to be _perfect_." He gestures with his hands. "But you're totally welcome to take a page from the Allen playbook for your tenth anniversary." He glances at Barry and Iris, also swing dancing now and being even better at it.

Wally and Artemis exchange a glance and snort, both at once.

"I think," Artemis says, "we'll just stick to a private weekend in Vermont."

"I solemnly second that." Wally presses a kiss to his wife's cheek and grins, feeling the champagne buzz go to his head. "Wow, babe, I just realized— Can you believe we've been together for almost twenty years? Time flie— Wait, oh my god." He gapes, eyes like bowling balls. "Whoa, wait."

"What?" she asks.

"Arty. We've spent more time together than apart. _How_."

"Hey, that's nothing," Bart says, mouth full of Chicken Whizees. "_I've_ spent more time in this era than where I was born. Think about _that_." He flips one bit up into the air and catches it with his tongue.

Wally freezes.

"Uh oh, we've lost him," Artemis says with a wry smile. "Wally's feeling the passage of time today. He'll snap out of it in a minute," she assures her cousin-in-law and glances around for her daughter. her gaze lands on the Whizees behind Bart. "Hand me those, will you? I'm starving."

"Sure thing. Hey, Jaime!" he calls over. "Come eat. We've got a long night in front of us," Bart says with a grin and puts the biggest kiss on his new husband's lips when Jaime joins them.

* * *

**A/N:** this chapter takes place ten years after the previous and considerably later than the following chapters. Chronologically it probably takes place at the end of this fic, but the order of the prompts was such.


	4. Babies

The first time he holds her, Wally nearly drops the fragile, tiny human being in his arms.

All the months leading up to his moment replay themselves in his mind and his whole being gathers in his hands in what looks to him like a bright, golden light surrounding the baby.

The memory of finding out Artemis was pregnant flows through a vein in his arm and settles into his daughter's foot. The memory of holding her hair again and again when she suddenly got morning sickness in her second trimester drops from his chin and lands on little Babygirl's forehead. The memory of rubbing Artemis' swollen, red feet haunts him and he draws it back, only letting the nice ones near the aura surrounding his precious bundle of joy.

He's acutely aware of the horns blasting outside, the tiptap of feet in the hall, the blast of AC into the room. He shuffles the baby to one arm and attempts to shield her little head from the freaking _hurricane_ it brings—where is the thermostat?!—and, the moment his bare skin touches hers, an electric current runs through him and she opens her eyes, staring directly at Wally.

He gazes into her big, clear eyes with tears welling up in his own, and he swears to protect and support her, always and forever.

* * *

Artemis draws in a heavy, shallow breath as her eyes open to the sight of her husband holding their daughter with tightly pursed lips that he's bitten into to keep from breaking into the world's biggest grin—she knows this grimace well—and her face immediately softens.

"Hey," he says when he notices she's awake, sniffing. "How are you feeling?"

"Jealous of you," she says with a weak chuckle, eyes drifting closed. "I don't think I'll be able to sit for a week, at least."

"It's that bad?" His grin disappears as he sits on the side of her bed. "Is it supposed to be that bad?"

"I think so." She gives as much of a shrug as she can muster. "My everything stretched out to, like, twenty times in size and pushed all my organs up. You can't expect it all to pop back like it was before. Everything's _sore_." She swallows roughly and doesn't even try to open her eyes anymore. "And… Period cramps. Times thirty. I don't even want to _think_ about walking right."

He brushes his fingers against her cheek, tucking the mess of her sweaty, short hair that she chopped off in a mood swing—and hasn't regretted since—behind her ear, leaning to press a slow kiss to her forehead.

"If you need anything, I'm here," he whispers. "For everything. You deserve everything I could ever give you for this."

"I just want to hold her," she replies, gathering all her strength to open her eyes. "I only got to for a second and she peed on me."

"Oh, sure." He frowns, trying to hand the baby to Artemis, who lies perfectly flat. "Uh. How do I— Where do I put her?"

She actually manages a weak snort and holds up her thin, weakened hands. "Just give her to me."

He carefully puts the tiny human into Artemis' arms, holding onto her until his wife has rested their daughter against her chest with her hand cradling the little one's head, craning her own neck to see better.

She smiles at the fluffy hair, the alert eyes, the button of a nose. The yellow blanket with ducks that Babygirl is tucked in, her hot skin, the smooth lips that might, in time, look just like her own.

Artemis sees this girl growing up before her eyes, getting skinned knees and asshole boyfriends—or girlfriends—before she learns better, going off on a worldwide roadtrip, encountering numerous people who put her down, and all these other things, and she realizes she can no longer protect this wonderful person from the world.

She no longer has a shell around her and whatever happens isn't entirely in her hands anymore.

Artemis starts crying at the thought of this perfect girl no longer being inside her—never again—and how she won't be able to feel the kicks or the movements, or the connection with her that bordered on the telepathing. Or even the absence of loneliness no matter where she was.

The woman's chin puckers as the corners of her mouth turn down and her palm instinctively flies to her belly. It looks just like it did a week ago, still elevated and round, and stretched, but there's no life inside it.

It's just empty, like an abandoned house.

Artemis looks at that gorgeous face in her hands and she swears, for better or worse, that she will be the best parent she can possibly be, and she will never _ever_ repeat her parents' mistakes.

"Look, Wally," she says as he ghosts a finger over her cheek to smooth out the tears, "we made someone."

"Yeah, we did." He smiles and takes her back into his arms when Artemis starts sobbing. "She's perfect."

"She's ours. And I'm gonna love her so much, I promise."

"You already do," he assures her and hands the little girl to a nurse who wants to check that everything's still okay.

Wally looks after the blue-clad woman, telling himself he's paranoid for wanting to follow, and stays with Artemis until she falls asleep, holding his hand as tightly as she needs to. He curls up next to her and holds her closer than he's been able to for months, and whispers, "I love you." to make her dreams erase all the hardships and pain, and help her remember that she's a hero and a warrior, and she's the queen of his heart, now and always.

And they're a family.

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**A/N**: I couldn't write the fourth prompt in time to post it and I'm still tweaking the idea a little, so it will probably come at the end of this story. This is the fifth day btw.


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